Kenney, Laina - Overexposed [DIG Security 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Laina Kenney Page B

little cut and some bruises on my face and my arm.” She clamped her teeth together and willed the awful trembling to cease.
    His eyes were searching when he looked at her, but he left it at that, and she was thankful. She really didn’t want to talk about it with a stranger.
    “Still got your phone, love? I’d consider it a personal favor if you would call Conn before he calls me,” he said. “The man doesn’t wait well.”
    Avelyn almost smiled at the understatement. She dug around in her bag for the phone and dialed.
    Conn picked up in the middle of the first ring. She told him she was in a car on her way to the airport and complimented his friends. Conn asked to speak to his friend, and the man spoke briefly into her phone, mentioning her bruises and general condition, before passing it back to her.
    “Be careful, pixie,” Conn said. “It won’t be long now. You just go along for the ride, and we’ll have you safe in Texas before you know it.”
    “Thanks, Uncle Conn.”
    Avelyn flipped the phone shut and slumped down in the back seat. She could see the top of her head in the rearview mirror of the car.
    She closed her eyes and sank back against the seat. She had survived, and Uncle Conn’s friends were driving her to the airport.
    The man driving was silent, but the other man was keeping up a running monologue about the construction at the airport that never seemed to end and the dark Dublin rain. It didn’t require any response from her. She wondered idly if he was talking for her benefit and found the thought comforting.
    Her arm was beginning to throb. The bruises felt bone-deep. She cradled her injured arm against her middle and fought back the tears. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Conn—No, she wouldn’t think about “what-ifs.” She was lucky to be alive, and she was grateful.
    She snuggled down further, pulled the scratchy wool up around her face and watched the dark streets of Dublin fly by as they raced through the night.

Chapter 2

    Locke straightened to his full height of six two and frowned at his boss. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked down at the coffee cup in his hand in disgust. Hell, he hadn’t even finished lunch yet, and the day was already circling the bowl.
    “No. No way. I’m not a goddamned babysitter, Grange. Not qualified, not interested. Teenagers give me hives. I’m not capable of being polite to some spoiled little girl for hours on end.”
    In all honesty, he probably couldn’t manage to be polite for five minutes, but he wasn’t sure he should admit that to his boss. He liked having a job and a paycheck.
    Locke ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Isn’t anyone else available to meet the damn plane?”
    “The girl is a student studying for a theatre degree. She’s not some teenager. This is Conn’s niece, and it’s a security matter. You know he’d meet her himself, but he’s testifying in court this afternoon, and he’s been in Agent Morse’s hospital room all night every night. He’s got enough on his plate right now.
    “You’ve worked on Conn’s team many times. Conn requested you for this assignment and said you’re to identify yourself to her using his name. There’s no good cause to refuse.” Grange’s tone was so reasonable that Locke wanted to punch him.
    Locke could tell he was in a losing battle, but it just wasn’t in him to give up.
    “Grange, you know I don’t wear easy on women. I don’t understand them, never did, never will. I’m not a smooth talker, and I couldn’t care less about the price of a good suit. Women like wine and roses. I like beer and bar fights.”
    He gestured to his old jeans complete with silver rodeo belt buckle, faded T-shirt bearing the slogan for a smooth Tennessee sipping whiskey, and well-worn cowboy boots. Even when he was standing on a city street, he looked like a cowboy. Growing up poor on a hard-scrabble ranch with four hell-raising brothers, he was practically the poster boy